Martoons

Cast of characters

Miss No

*

Miss No was doing a final quick tidy-up in her office just before heading down to her cab. But as she rolled out her chair to retrieve her handbag, a flash of horror shot through her.

* What is it?! *

That box. Below my desk. Containing all the equipment and supplies for my mindwashing séances.

“Oh my God…” she gasped, “…evidence. I will have to do a disappearing act on that.”

She could already anticipate the questions.

Not so much that police would draw a connection with Mr Go’s death, but the portraits alone – of North Korea’s founder and his son – would be enough to raise suspicions that Miss No might have links with the communist regime.

And in South Korea that was tantamount to treason – and jail, for a very long time. There were still communist political prisoners in jail from the Korean War fifty years before.

* What will she do to get rid of the evidence? *

She slid the portraits into her hand bag but wondered how to dispose of the bottle of North Korean wine – the elixir that had worked wonders and made Go’s mind malleable like putty time after time.

“Hello old friend,” she said to the bottle. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

The bottle seemed to hold a power; an energy. As she felt the glass curvature in both hands as if it was a trophy, a sense of entitlement overcame her.

She owed herself a little treat, she thought, flashing back over the last twelve months.

It had been a long, steep climb but she’d come a long way. This time last year she’d been Go’s meek and obedient assistant and during off-hours his comfort woman.

Both roles had been unending sources of frustration.

At work she did everything yet Go gave her no credit.

His favorite saying was, “Behind every successful businessman, there’s a soju tent, a mistress and a singing room microphone.”

He never thanked Miss No for anything (believing it would make her lazy) nor did he invite her out anywhere to unwind after work.

In fact, he’d bury her with work-related chores well past closing so he could go out on the town as a ‘bachelor’.

Back at their luxurious villa apartment, No would wait for Go into the wee hours, decked-out in her sexiest flannel pajamas.

In those days she truly loved him, and night after night she’d wait in eager anticipation.

She’d done her homework too: She’d studied love scenes from Hollywood movies and read women’s magazines that a university friend had mailed her from the States – with articles such as “His Top 7 Hot Spots.”

She’d memorized them all and had flash cards tucked away in her traditional Korean dresser for reference. It was all for not.

On an average night, Go would stumble in the door ridiculously late and stupidly drunk.

He’d crawl into their bed without showering, and smelling like kimchi and cigarettes.

All she could do was light yet another of his cigarettes for him then watch over him as he fumbled with it and usually fell asleep halfway through smoking it.

She’d have to remove and extinguish the dangling, smouldering cancer stick from his snoring lips.

On rare occasions when Go was in better shape he might allow her to massage him but never anything romantic. No wondered why he didn’t seem to have any concept of intimacy.

Was he … gay? Or was there something wrong with her?

* What do you think? *

After months of getting nowhere with him in the sack, she got a wake-up call one night when Go almost accidentally set her flannel PJs on fire with a cigarette.

Simply astounding she thought sitting at her desk now – one year later – in her largely darkened office.

I used to love that man. I got all tingly at the thought of him.

She shook her head and scoffed. And that one night that same man almost set me on fire! And now, ironically, it is he that’s gone up in flames.

* He hasn’t really though… *

She snapped out of her nostalgic trance and found herself staring at the wine bottle. She gripped its cap, twisted it open and filled a glass.

She deserved a toast. “Cheers – to me – the full owner and controller of my very own Englishy business. Me – from bottom feeder to royalty, all within one year!”

*

Tomorrow: Miss No doesn’t know how to pace herself.